


Bro: discover new talent.

by Laylah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time, Jaded Asshole/Eager Douchebag, M/M, Rimming, Sex Toys, porn industry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly you don't give two shits what the kid looks like. Your audience will go for it even if you get someone who got beaten half to death with the troll ugly stick.</p>
<p>The picture loads.</p>
<p>You're going to make so much alien fetish money you're going to have to hire somebody to build a swimming pool on the roof, just so you can fill it with sleazy intergalactic flesh trade dollars and roll around in it like an asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bro: discover new talent.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/gifts).



> I hope this hits the notes you were looking for! It's a first meeting instead of an established relationship, so Bro's trying to keep his distance at the beginning, but brazen shamelessness is the way to get under his skin, if not to his heart.

Other people worry about how to integrate institutions, how to justly enforce laws, shit like that. It's good. That stuff is important; somebody better put the work in from the start.

You worry about cornering a virgin—heh—market before anyone else gets there.

You study the stuff imported from the trolls' own worlds and find yourself a little let down by how predictable it is. You can appreciate a good money shot, obviously, but the nearly-universal focus on the buckets isn't doing it for you. Clearly this is a field that needs a maestro's touch.

When you put out the ad for models, you try to use enough obvious code words to make it clear what you want, but the first few pesters you field still get confused and block you once you ask how far they'll go. Maybe you should see if the city paper will let you run an ad that actually says _let me photograph your junk_.

But then you get this one.

CA: hey chief, you still looking for models?   
TT: i sure am. you know what kind of modeling i'm looking for here?   
CA: the kind wvhere i take my clothes off?   
TT: for starters.

There's a pause that makes you wonder if you've just scared off another one. But fuck it, you didn't build a porn empire by doing tame shit, the plush version of _Playboy_ or whever. Go hardcore or go home. And then:

CA: im cool vwith that. wvhere do i sign up?   
TT: first things first, then. how old are you?   
CA: nine swveeps, vwhy do you care?   
TT: human laws about age limits are a pretty serious deal, that's all. nine sweeps comes out to what, 18-19 human years?   
CA: yeah.   
TT: great. barely legal it is. send me a pic.

Honestly you don't give two shits what the kid looks like. Your audience will go for it even if you get someone who got beaten half to death with the troll ugly stick.

The picture loads.

You're going to make so much alien fetish money you're going to have to hire somebody to build a swimming pool on the roof, just so you can fill it with sleazy intergalactic flesh trade dollars and roll around in it like an asshole. The just-barely-unnerving angles of the kid's face, the bonus rarity points from the earfins, and the fact that the weirdness is balanced by an entirely readable expression of desperate need to be used: yeah, you're going to work this one for all he's worth.

CA: wvell?   
TT: yeah, i think i can work with that. let's talk schedules.

You plan it out in advance, of course, before he turns up. You'll give him an easy first shoot, solo work and a lot of sweet talking. If you can really land this fishboy, he's going to be a hell of an investment. You set up the studio for a kind of luxury theme, satin sheets and strands of bigass fake pearls, all the shit that says this is high-class tail you're peddling.

Kid shows up five minutes early to the appointment, eyes wide when you open the door, chewing on a cigarette he hasn't lit. "Hi," he says, holding out a hand to shake. "I'm Cronus."

You take his hand. "Call me Bro, Cronus. All my friends do." You stroke his knuckles. His skin feels almost like well-powdered rubber. "I like what you did with your hair," you add. It's a fucking pompadour, totally hilarious.

He puffs up all thrilled. "Yeah? I mean." You watch him wrestle his expression back under control and try to look a fraction as cool as you. "Figured it's a look that works for me pretty good."

"Totally," you agree. "Here, come on in."

You bring him inside, go pick up your camera while he looks at the set you've put together for him. "You, uh, know about the royalty thing, huh?" he asks.

You make a mental note: look up troll royalty later. "It seemed like a good way to introduce you to your new fans. You know, get them to associate you with class and luxury."

"Wow," he says, and then goes kind of stiff and spooked as you point the camera at him.

"Relax," you say. "Just going to shoot a few candids, let you get used to the camera's attention. Get used to the space. Settle in. You can start taking things off whenever."

His fins move, and you're sure it's some kind of emotional tell. God, you need to learn how to read alien body language. "You got it, chief," he says.

He fidgets a little and starts poking around, but he keeps looking back at you while he's trying to check out the pillows or whatever. You point the camera at him, clicking aimlessly. This shit must have been so much more of a pain before digital, when you'd have to worry about wasting film. Now, you can just point and click at whim, no problem. Cronus perks up when he sees you looking, at least. Crying shame nobody thought to get him in front of a camera before.

"So what made you decide to give me a yell?" you ask.

Cronus shrugs, gives you a smile that probably looks a lot more shy than he means it to. You snap pics of that for sure. "I like people. I like humans, really. Seems like a pretty good way to make it mutual, you know?"

You let him see you smile. "Totally. Lot of humans are curious about you guys now. And you'll be the good-looking guy who gets to satisfy them."

He blushes purple. You take more pics. "Well. I guess I can't really disappoint them, huh?" He toys with the hem of his t-shirt, all coy and shit.

"Come on, baby," you say. "Let me see."

The blush gets deeper and his fins flare out, and he tugs the shirt up over his head slow and smooth like he's practiced it. Are those—holy shit, yeah, those are gills or something along his sides, gapping open and fluttering closed again. Your dick wakes up and starts paying a little attention.

" _Niiiice_ ," you say. "Let me get a couple good shots of those." You come closer, and Cronus sits back on the bed to give you a decent angle on his gills. "Can you get them open a little further? Spread them with your fingers for me."

"Wow," he says, but he does it, holding his gills open like a porn star showing off pussy. The little filament things give it a delicate striped effect, purple and gray, a view _into_ him. You reach down and adjust yourself in your pants.

Cronus notices. "Like what you see, huh?" he asks, eyes locked on the zipper of your jeans.

"I admit I've got some personal investment in getting into this scene, yeah." He licks his lips and you don't think he's even going to need convincing to let you fuck him at the end of all this. Hell, you might be able to convince him it's a reward. "But don't worry. I'm a professional. I'm not going to get distracted while we have work to do."

"Right." He drags his gaze back up to your face with visible effort. "I guess we better get working, then."

"Damn straight." You flash him another smile, because wow, you have never seen anyone so quick to gobble up positive reinforcement. "Go slow taking your pants off—give me time to really capture the moment."

You're not sure whether he likes following orders or whether you're just asking for stuff he wants anyway. Whichever, he's cooperating like a champ, peeling his jeans open and inching them down so you can appreciate how alien hipbones work. There's an actual ridge there, the skin darker where it follows the raised line. God, you want to bite it.

His slit's purple and swollen, glistening a little in the middle where it gives you a glimpse of what's inside. Kid's a natural. "Okay, now flip over," you say. "No, leave your jeans there, pulled down just enough. Elbows and knees."

He goes. His spine has the same kind of ridge down it, which makes a fantastic visual cue, leading the eye straight down to the cleft in an amazingly inviting rump. You wonder how long it'll take before you can get him to let you fuck him in the ass. "Yeah, arch your back a little more," you say. "Look at me." He looks back over his shoulder and you couldn't coach a better _please give it to me_ expression onto his face if you tried. "You ever take it up the ass, babe?"

Cronus's eyes widen and his fins flutter rapidly, but the hopeful expression doesn't fade. ""N-no," he says. "I mean, not yet. I mean, that's a kinda extreme thing, right?"

"Maybe in a species where everybody's got a vag." You smirk at him over the camera. "But when half the population doesn't, and that's the half you tend to be interested in...."

He looks you up and down again, still holding his intensely fuckable pose. "You done it a lot, then?"

"I've plundered my share of booty, yeah." You admire his for a few more seconds because hey, you're both into it. Then you nod. "Okay, lose the pants. You look like you're ready to get serious."

"You got it, chief," he says. Fifteen seconds later you have a naked troll sprawled across your most ironically fancy satin sheets, giving you bedroom eyes. "How do you want me?"

_Gagging for it_ , you think. "Let's do a couple coy shots first, play up the first-time angle." You fuss over him a little, arranging gauzy scarves and strands of pearls to make him look like somebody's expensive harem fantasy. Your fingertips might drag across that rubber-fine skin more than they need to, but you don't hear a word of complaint. The setup shots aren't your favorite, but you try not to rush them. Cronus rolls around decadently in front of your lens, acting like some kind of hedonist prince, as you coax him to twist this way or bare that inch of skin, and eventually you have all you think you can use on that front.

"Cool. Now let's get to the good part," you say. He grins at you like a sexed-up ingenue shark. "Push that stuff out of the way and let's see what you've got."

He does. The slit looks plumper now, slicker than the first time you saw it, opening on rich purple flesh. "You want me unsheathed?"

"Hell yes. Can you do it slow?"

"I'll try." Those sharp teeth catch his lip like that's going to take concentration, and you put all your attention into your pics. Cronus teases himself with a few fingers, opening himself up, and when the first curl of his bulge slips out around his fingertips your cock throbs. You're going to nail this kid to the wall.

"Talk to me?" he says.

"Need to hear how pretty you are?"

"It's nice, that's all." His _voice_ is pouting. "I don't need it."

"Hey, come on, you know I'm impressed," you say. "Gonna make a star out of you, bro. I wouldn't say that to somebody who didn't give me anything to work with."

His earfins fan out as he smiles again. "Everybody's gonna want some of this, huh?"

You take another rapid-fire series of shots as 'this' squirms out of his slit a few more inches, purple and glistening wet. "Damn right," you say. "Feeling pretty good right now, yeah? Let me see that on your face. Show me how hot you feel."

Cronus whines, wordless and needy, biting his lip as he plays with himself. He's dripping, and his bulge squeezes his fingers.

Video next time. So much video. "Fuck, that's sweet, bro. So, you said you like humans earlier. Bet you've been watching human porn, haven't you."

"Y-yeah, a little." His gills flare and snap shut again with a little _glub_ noise. "Maybe more than a little."

"So you know what a human guy's packing." You almost say _what I'm packing_ , but you manage to restrain yourself. He looks at your crotch anyway as he nods. Score. "And you want some of that," you prompt.

"Shit, yes," he says.

You love your job. "Reach under that pillow on your left for me."

A second of pouting—is he seriously disappointed that you aren't inviting him to ride your dick yet?—but he does what he's told, and you are clicking like mad as he pulls out the easter egg you left under there for him. It's one of the nicest dicks in your collection, at least if you're only counting the strictly humanoid ones. His eyes go wide as he takes it in, the detailed sculpting of the cyberskin, the impressive thickness of it, the excitingly implausible length.

Dicks, man. Dicks are great.

"Give it a kiss, babe," you say.

Cronus looks up at you, going tense like he's trying to figure out if you're fucking with him.

It's cool, though you got this. "Give the guys at home a nice mental image. Let 'em see how good you look. Get 'em thinking about how bad they wish they could give that pretty mouth a try."

" _Fuck_ ," Cronus breathes. He presses his lips to the crown, then opens his mouth slowly and licks it, staring up at you. You've never met a bigger attention whore than this kid. Despite yourself, you're kind of impressed.

"There you go, yeah. Open wide. Can you get that big thing in your mouth?"

For a second he smirks at you, which you photograph even though it's too toppy to be part of the finished shoot. He licks his lips and wraps them around the dick, working it slowly down his throat until there's barely enough left for him to hold onto. His flesh distends around the shaft, outlining the bulge in the sleek column of his neck.

You nearly blow a load in your pants.

"Fuck, babe, you're a natural." God, if it's that visible when he crams it up his slit you really will cream yourself. "Let's put that nice fat dick a few other places that'll make your fans jealous."

Cronus moans, his bulge squirming around and leaving lavender snail trails on his stomach. He pulls the dick out really slowly, giving you time for the best spit-string pic of your career. You are a jaded master pornographer, you remind your own dick sternly. You will be a goddamn professional and finish the shoot before you do any wick-dipping here.

"What next, chief?" Cronus asks. His voice has just a touch of that raw got-my-throat-hammered roughness. It sounds great.

"How much conscious control you have over your sea monster there? Could you wrap it up, give it a squeeze?"

"Yeah, you got it." He brings the toy down where his junk can get at it, crooning softly as his bulge does its best boa constrictor impression. "That's a, a thing guys are gonna like, huh? Imagining—my bulge all wrapped up with theirs?"

He's a vain little shit. You can respect that. "Damn right." You get that from a couple angles, some closeups and a few shots that show his fuck-me face. "Only one thing they're going to want more. And you know what that is, don't you?"

He nods. "Wanna fuck my nook," he says, and you're not sure if he was swallowing a _they'll_ at the start there or if he's just flat-out offering it to you. The way he looks at the lump in your jeans isn't helping.

"Got it in one." Jesus, look at that adorable blush. "Do it nice and slow, babe. Make it a show for me."

The sound he makes comes straight out of the last act of a troll porno, and you've been watching enough of those that you get a little reflexive dick throb in response. You keep the metaphorical shutter clicking as Cronus eases his bulge away from the toy and spreads his legs wider. He gets the fat tip of it in and stops, chewing his lips. His gills flutter.

"You got this, bro," you tell him. 

"It's just _big_ ," he whines, and his fins fold down as he blushes deeper. You missed such an amazing opportunity. You should have had him doing video from the start.

"Take your time," you say. "Relax. You look so fucking hot right now, spread out and working that big dick up your slit. Get through this, and you're going to be a star."

Cronus nods jerkily. "I got this," he says, and his voice is shaky. It makes you an asshole that you get harder over that, but you knew that about yourself already. "Just gotta adjust, it doesn't, doesn't taper at all."

"Yeah." He asked you to talk to him before; you figure it can't hurt to keep up the positive reinforcement now. "Go as slow as you need to, babe, this is already gorgeous. You're going to blow people's minds with this shoot. Mmm, yeah, there you go. That work better?" He's twisting it a little as he pushes it deeper, giving himself a more-than-usually-literal screw.

"Y-yeah, it's—a little easier to, to open up for it," he says, so breathy and desperate you want to give up on this whole thing and just plow him. "More l-like another troll's."

You have a couple of those vibrators that have squirming-and-rotating settings, and you are so going to have to get him on one of them next time. Right now you don't want to break theme, though. You get in close, take some shots that really show off the swollen and stretched open flesh of his slit, the smear of fluids on the shaft of the toy.

"This is so prime, babe," you say, and he shivers. "You're a fucking champ. Flip over for me, let me get you fucking yourself with your ass in the air."

Cronus whines, wiggling awkwardly onto his belly and getting his knees under him. The fat shaft of the toy sticks out between his legs, and the bare violet pucker of his asshole looks like an invitation. You reach down and squeeze your cock, just once, since he can't see you do it.

Your voice still comes out a little hoarse when you say, "Spread 'em just a little further. There you go, yeah, let's see you play with it like this." 

He doesn't move his hands. His _bulge_ slips down to wrap around the base of the toy instead, roiling and squeezing. For a second your hands falter on the camera, and you don't quite stifle your sharply caught breath.

"Y-you like it like that," Cronus says, his voice thin and needy, and rocks his hips in slow circles. His gills keep fluttering. There's purple sex juice running down his thighs.

"You're sexy as hell," you tell him. He's earned it. "This is going to make a great finished set. All I still need is the come shots. You close?"

Tension rises in the line of his back. "I—I could..."

"If it's going to take more stimulation to get you there, I could lend a hand," you offer as blandly as you can.

"Oh my _god_ , yes," Cronus moans, and you're on the bed with him before he's done saying the word. You get both hands on that grade-A rump and squeeze: firm, but with just enough give to feel really tempting, and when you swipe one thumb up his crack he shivers.

You can't help yourself. You lean down and lick him, sloppy and slow. He tastes like brine, and his skin's cool to the touch even here, where it should be about as warm as he gets. He gasps out something in whatever trollish dialect he speaks, this explosion of clicks and buzzes. You kiss his tailbone. "Was that a yes?"

"Holy fuck yes please more yes," he clarifies. You grin. You can work with that.

You settle in and press your mouth up against him more purposefully, dragging your tongue up his crack and tracing little circles against his asshole. He swears in a garbled mixture of human and troll, and you're pretty sure it's at least partly from shock that you'd do something this kinky. (You're going to have so much fun showing him just how far humans go on that score.) 

You go slow, edging toward outright worshipful—licking and teasing, your tongue asking for permission instead of pushing right in there. He's not experienced with this (honestly, if you're reading him right, he's not too experienced at all), which means it is up to you to introduce him to the wonders of his ass as an erogenous zone. This is, honestly, a challenge you're honored to accept.

By the time you're actually getting a little penetration going on, he's whimpering and buzzing constantly, his thighs trembling. You want to fuck him so bad.

"I want to fuck you so bad, bro," you say.

He looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes wide, his blush extending straight out to the tips of his fins. "There?" he asks, and his precious plush rump tenses under your hands.

Which is plenty of feedback, if you want to be careful with him (and you do). "Not this time. We can work up to something that big, but I don't want to rush you." You massage the pucker of his hole gently, keeping up the buzz of sensation, keeping it on his mind. "For today, how about we just go with a little plug up here, and then you can show me how good that sloppy nook feels."

Cronus nods frantically. "Yeah, god, I want the real thing, chief, lemme have it."

The kid sure does know how to ask nicely. You snag one of the smaller plugs from your stock and slick it from the pump bottle. He whimpers when you slide it into him, trembling and dripping on the sheets, but he's rocking back _toward_ your hand, not away. You rock the plug inside him gently once you have it seated, listening to the helpless sounds he makes, taking masochistic delight in delaying the relief your cock needs. It's a good ache, wanting something you know you can have, holding out and just experiencing the want for a little longer.

"Goddamnit, Bro, you fuckin' tease, what are you waiting for?" Okay, so not everybody shares your feelings on that one.

"Sorry, kiddo. Left you hanging long enough, huh?" You quit messing with his ass, charming as it is, and he gets up on his knees to watch as you unbutton your pants. His bulge is still squeezing the toy's shaft slowly and you wonder what it would feel like to ride something like that. One more thing to put on your bucket list, you figure. Bucket list. Heh.

Cronus's eyes track your dick like he's starving for it as you get onto the bed with him, stretching out on your back. "Come get it, babe. You want the real thing? It's right here."

He pulls out the toy so fast you almost wince in sympathy, but it can't bother him too much because he pounces on you immediately, this lean dense coil of alien muscle. You run your hands up his thighs, thumb the scaly ridges of his hipbones, arch your own hips as he lowers himself down onto you.

"God, you're _hot_ ," he says as he ruts against your dick, his wet flesh cool and weird like well-lubed rubber. You're getting freaky with something that could have come right out of your fantasies, or your personal workshop.

"Here, come on, get it up you," you say, holding your dick at the right angle so he can impale himself. And he does, sliding down slow and easy, sheathing you in slick alien pussy.

"So hot," he keeps saying, his eyes squeezed shut and his bulge thrashing between you, "god, that's so fucking filthy, hhhn—"

You snap your hips up, getting the full experience, and he pitches forward, catching himself with surprisingly strong hands on your shoulders. "You like that? Hot alien dick shoved up you, nice visceral reminder you're full of something that doesn't belong there?"

Cronus's hands tighten on your shoulders hard enough that you're going to bruise. "Fuck," he moans, and it turns into a yowl the first time, but he's not totally gone: "Fuck me, fuck me, oh god," like it's a goddamn mantra. Mercenary-you is _really_ sorry you're not recording this, because it's the best virgin-turned-cumslut scene you've ever encountered. Id-driven-you, on the other hand, is having the best day in a long goddamn time, railing this pretty cockhungry alien who thinks you're doing him a favor.

You slip one hand back over his hip, and you can just barely reach his asscrack to put some pressure on the base of the plug again. He squirms on your dick, rasping out troll words in a fervent either-cursing-or-praying tone. The stiff silicone of the plug rubs against the shaft of your dick through the thin layers of flesh separating them. Cronus sobs.

"You're taking it like a fucking champ, baby, look at you," you say. "Stuffed so full and loving it, taking a fat alien dick up that pretty slit." His bulge thrashes hard enough to splatter drops of his love juice all the way up to his chest. "Yeah, should I give that some attention too?"

His desperate, chirping curses get even breathier, and he nods like he's afraid that won't be clear enough. You reach for his tentadick with your other hand and it practically tries to wrench your fingers off. If the rest of him feels like rubber, this is like soaking-wet satin, and if you could bottle his natural slick it'd give astroglide a run for the money. Hell yes, this little monster is going up your ass sometime really soon. Is there a position where you could do each other simultaneously? Some kind of kama sutra shit where you could stuff your dick up this cool wet slice of heaven while he got his hentai on with your asshole?

Just picturing it is enough to make your balls ache and draw tight. Cronus writhes in your lap, like he can't get enough of any of it, and watching him wreck himself is fucking incredible: he's taking your dick to the root, rocking back against your hand on the plug, squeezing and twining around the fingers of your other hand. He's flushed all the way down to his chest and his gills aren't closing anymore. His ridiculous hair is wilting, one stray curl falling across his forehead. You have fucking _ruined_ this kid in the best way, and that's what does it for you, makes you rock up hard into him and swear and be the kind of unprofessional shithead who comes in his models.

Cronus trills out a desperate, stunned noise and clenches down hard around you, like he's trying to milk out every drop, and that hits you like a taser to the balls, makes it feel like you come a second time right on the heels of the first one, so much at once it _hurts_.

"Fuck," you gasp, "holy fuck, babe, you fucking gorgeous hungry little cumslut," and the way he trembles, tense all over, translates just fine from troll to human—he's so ready to blow, so close, and goddamn do you want to see this kid lose it. "Getting ready to just paint me, aren't you? Going to come all over me, make a huge fucking mess."

"I—I was—" He loses the words into a desperate howl, and then—okay, honestly, it's like you just got a bucket of cold whipping cream dumped in your lap, except purple, and with bonus desperate alien falling apart on top of you. You have just enough presence of mind to hold it together and not laugh at how suddenly absurd this is. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd take that well.

So, note to self, next time try not being underneath him when he comes.

Right now, though, he just drops onto your chest like his arms don't work anymore, shivering through his aftershocks and gasping for breath. You should nudge him off. You don't want him getting the wrong idea about what's going on here.

When your hand comes up to his back, though, you find yourself petting instead of nudging. Cold junk bath aside, that was pretty fucking cool. "Holy shit, wow," he mumbles into your shoulder. "I mean, wow."

"That different, huh?" you ask.

"Different from wh—oh, um, yeah," Cronus says. "Totally. Really different."

You totally just punched his V-card, didn't you.

"Yeah," you say. "Never had anyone quite like you, either." You scratch his back gently with the bitten-down stubs of your nails, and try not to think too hard about the lake you're lying in. "So, hey, what were you trying to say before the dam broke there?"

Cronus shifts awkwardly and you start slipping out of him. "Um. We didn't get the pictures you wanted."

"Oh. Damn, you're right." You pet him a little more, then shrug. "How's your refractory period?"

He bursts out in breathy, disbelieving laughter. "Oh my god, I. Oh my god."

"I'm going to need to hit the showers and get some new sheets on here anyway. Think you'd be ready for round two by then?"

" _Yes_ ," he says, dropping a little line of kisses along your collarbone. You should discourage that, too; you don't. "Whatever you want, Bro, yes."

"Hot," you say. You can work with this. You're going to make him a star.


End file.
